


Who Will Be Her Lover?

by DRHPaints



Series: Clark and Rhiannon [8]
Category: Bill Hader - Fandom, Doc Now - Fandom, Documentary Now - Fandom, Documentary Now! (TV 2015)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Love, Marriage, Masturbation, Sappy, Scratching, Smut, Sweet, Vaginal Sex, Vows, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: The day has finally arrived: Clark and Rhiannon are getting married. As they prepare for the nuptials, both of them reflect on different aspects of their relationship.
Relationships: Clark Honus/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Clark and Rhiannon [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954567
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	Who Will Be Her Lover?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unlikelybeardsublime1212](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlikelybeardsublime1212/gifts).



> As with all installments of this series, the title is from a lyric in the song ‘Rhiannon’ by Fleetwood Mac.

Eyes springing open, as Rhiannon peered around the empty hotel room she was amazed she slept. The night before, she paced, hands fidgeting and room service meal untouched as Rhiannon considered the day ahead.

The wedding. Finally, she and Clark were going to get married. Rhiannon’s nerves weren’t due to the concept of spending a life with Clark. The idea of endless nights in his strong arms was exciting, even consoling. No, instead Rhiannon found herself panicking about every possible thing that might go wrong.

_ What if the caterer doesn’t show up and there’s no food for anyone? What if it rains? What if I snag my dress on a chair as I’m walking down the aisle and it rips, and everyone sees my underwear? _

The scenarios grew increasingly ridiculous and finally, around two in the morning, Rhiannon took her anxiety medication, even though she didn’t like the idea that what was supposed to be ‘the happiest day of her life’ pushed her into full blown panic.

After showering and staring at a plate of breakfast until she admitted defeat, Rhiannon called up her maid of honor, who alerted the other ladies, and soon Rhiannon’s room was abuzz with flittering women. As she tried sitting patiently for her makeup, Rhiannon’s thoughts wandered to Clark, wondering how he was handling the stress.

Clark rented out the entire hotel. To be honest it wasn’t that extravagant a move. At the end of the day all but seven rooms were filled by their guests and staff. Clark didn’t sleep. But that was nothing new. He never slept without Rhiannon. Whenever he left to do a deal in New York, or she spent a week with her sister, it was torture. Even with double the sleeping meds. Nothing.

But then at least he could call her. Rhiannon’s sweet voice soothing him as he sought the elusive temptress of slumber. And last night the urge to go to her room. Or at least pick up the phone. Maybe even just text her, see if she would send a picture of her face, or maybe a short voice message, was nearly insatiable.

And so, Clark sat. He laid down for a while. But that started to seem pointless. He took a bath. But that made him miss Rhiannon even more. After fifteen years of sobriety, as Clark watched the clock tick on toward dawn, he couldn’t recall a night when he wanted to drink this badly. Wanted to get high. Anything.

Clark wasn’t afraid to marry Rhiannon. Not exactly. No. Clark was afraid of Rhiannon marrying him. As he sifted over the memories of their time together, a vicious creature broke into the hotel room. A malignant monster of doubt, of regret. At first whispering, snickering, prompting Clark of all the ways he wasn’t entirely honest with her.  _ She has no idea what kind of trash you are. _

Then the goblin tapped him on the shoulder, commanding, taunting. Telling Clark of all the ways he failed her. His endless shortcomings. How he could never measure up to the man Rhiannon believed him to be.  _ She wants ‘Clark Honus: Rock God.’ Not some washed up hack approaching seventy. Who do you think you are? _

Around six a.m., eyes dry and lightheaded with sleep deprivation, a poltergeist roared in his consciousness, tossing about accusations without founding and shattering long-held beliefs against the walls of his mind.  _ She doesn’t really love you. It’s the money. That’s the only reason she puts up with you. Get out. Leave. Run. She’ll be better off. A woman like Rhiannon? You could only ruin her. _

Head in his hands, Clark took a deep breath. And then another. Taking out his phone, he stared at Rhiannon’s name. They agreed they would spend the night before the wedding apart, no contact until she came down the aisle. Grinding his teeth with such ferocity Clark swore he tasted powder, he exited his contacts, and opened his photo album instead.

Immediately Rhiannon’s smile beamed back at him. A whisp of the tension left Clark’s broad shoulders. Flipping to the next, Clark burst out laughing in spite of himself. It was a photo Rhiannon took while shopping with her friend Missy. In the image, Rhiannon pointed to a faded vintage Blue Jean Committee t-shirt, on which, Clark cringed, he looked like a total asshole, obviously posing and attempting to appear some semblance of sexy besides Gene, whose dorkiness was off the charts. Rhiannon, eyes wide and mouth a comical ‘O’ shape, pointed at his face, and she scribbled a note over her excited visage:  _ Look at my future husband!  _

Clark felt like he inhaled for the first time in hours, and he continued scrolling, running across pictures of Rhiannon laughing, Rhiannon sleeping on the couch, Rhiannon giving him the finger and smirking as he tried to snap another shot of her in a bathing suit. Thumb hovering over the separate folder dedicated to the plethora of elicit photos Rhiannon sent him, Clark raised an eyebrow.  _ Fuck it. _

Figuring it would at least alleviate some of his nerves, Clark flopped down on the mattress, ticking through the camera roll with one hand while the other snuck below the waistband of his boxers. Rhiannon at his side, Clark never particularly found the need to review the photos beyond their initial reception. So realizing he had almost a hundred sexy poses of Rhiannon at his disposal, some sent while he was on the road, others while Clark was in a meeting and Rhiannon found the idea of making him blush in a roomful of people amusing, Clark paused, laying his phone down and staring at the ceiling.  _ She really loves you. _

Clark resumed tugging himself, smirking at just how dirty Rhiannon got for him in some of the pictures, her face challenging, whether it be a subtle flash of her ass to the mirror, or propping her phone up to give him an eyeful of her spread legs, eyebrow often raised and curvaceous lips pouting, as if to say:  _ You gonna come fuck me or what? _

Then Clark stumbled upon a video. Pressing play, it was a close up of Rhiannon’s fingers fiddling fast between her thighs, not more than thirty seconds long. Turning his volume all the way up, Clark hit replay and Rhiannon’s moans floated to him from his phone. “Oh fuck…” Closing his eyes, Clark held the phone up to his ear. Repeating the video again. And again. And again, yanking his cock furiously, thrusting into the warm circle of his fist.

Clark imagined Rhiannon’s hands, her mouth. Burying himself so deep inside of her he forgot she was a separate person. The way her face distorted as Clark made her scream, shake. Her nails on his back. Rhiannon’s lips against his ear.  _ Clark! I love you! Fuck me! _

“ _ Rhi!” _ Clark called out into the empty hotel room as his cum splattered over his chest, whine grinding down to a soft grumble as he settled into the mattress. Breathing hard, Clark thought if he allowed it, he could almost start to drift, and cursed himself for not thinking to jerk off hours before when he had the time to sleep. Glancing at the clock, Clark jumped into the shower and prepared himself for the day ahead.

Makeup and hair done. Dress (and decidedly uncomfortable undergarments) on, Rhiannon picked up the silver heels. She asked the chattering gaggle of women to give her a few minutes, and as she sat on the bed, she turned the shoes upside down one more time, and smiled. In his surprisingly tidy script, Clark had scrawled  _ ‘Walking’ _ on the bottom of one and  _ ‘Shoes’ _ on the other, referencing his famous single.

Slipping them on, Rhiannon considered herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over her dress before she picked up the veil and carefully placed it over her crimson hair, half gathered up while the rest of the waves cascaded down her back.  _ Alright.  _ Rhiannon told herself, nodding at her reflection.  _ Put on your walking shoes. _

Clark tried to get the flower into his button hole, but for some reason his large hands weren’t responding to his orders. “ _ Shit _ .”

“Here, buddy.” His best man, Daniel, an old friend who stood beside Clark through more scrapes than he could count, and so he figured he should stand beside him during the best day of his life, too, reached up to help. “I got it.”

Shaking out his arms, Clark’s cheeks puffed and he let out a long, slow breath. “It’s gonna be okay, man.” Daniel clapped his vast shoulder and smiled. “You got this.” 

“Thanks.” Smiling nervously, Clark looked at the hour.  _ Showtime. _

Salty ocean air surrounding them, Rhiannon heard the music before she could clearly see anything happening on the beach. As she approached the white carpet rolled over the sand, Rhiannon took in the view. 

Guests rising from their pristine chairs to stare. Quartet swelling. Friends beaming in their lavender dresses. And Clark. More than anything, anyone, Rhiannon noticed Clark.

Standing in his black on black suit with a silver tie, stunningly handsome , hands clasped before him and statuesque, Rhiannon took her first step toward Clark and her mind was flooded with memories.

_ Clark _ . Before they were ever dating, during one of their dinners that, looking back, were so obviously dates in disguise it made Rhiannon chuckle, coming to the table with a small box. 

“Here you go…” Clapping it down in front of her, Clark cracked open a container of blueberries, popping one in his mouth. Eyes shifting to her, Clark tried to focus on the fruit, and not on Rhiannon staring wordlessly down at the gift, his other hand fiddling nervously beneath the table where she couldn’t see.

“What…what’s this for?” Looking up at him, Rhiannon blinked.

Shrugging, Clark tried to keep his voice casual. “You been here two months. Thought you should have a little something.”

“Oh…” Swallowing, Rhiannon lifted the lid, and inside was an antique silver bookmark with a mother of pearl inlay. Rhiannon picked it up, fingers passing over its elegant surface. “Clark, this...this is beautiful.”

Sharp jaw continuing to gnaw berries, he didn’t glance at her. “Well, I know you like to read, so…”

Rhiannon placed it carefully back in the box, sitting back in her chair in silence. “Thank you…” She whispered softly.

“Welcome.” Clark nodded. “Blueberry?” Holding the container out to her, he lifted a prominent dark eyebrow and smiled.

_ A few more steps. Clark _ . Climbing in the Tesla and passing Rhiannon the AUX cord. 

“So you want my oldies playlist?” Clark sheepishly peeked at her out of the corner of his eye as he started the engine. Chuckling, Rhiannon shook her head. “Okay. Divas it is.”

As they drove, windows rolled down, Britney Spears’  _ Baby One More Time  _ dropped and Clark instantly cranked it, Rhiannon laughing as he began to sing along, dramatically overacting the lyrics, gesturing (almost recklessly) with his large hands and swiveling his hips. Pulling to a stoplight at the height of the song, Clark was getting into it, performing for Rhiannon’s benefit as she cackled so hard she couldn’t breathe. 

She thought it was the funniest thing she ever witnessed. Until she noticed the car full of rocker dudes tilting their heads at them in horror from the next lane, song clearly audible from their distance, one of them pointing and mouthing:  _ Clark Honus? _

Back to them and serenading Rhiannon with a shimmy, Clark didn’t see their aghast expressions, and it wasn’t until one of them raised a phone in their direction that Rhiannon tapped his expansive shoulder, pointing.

The look of abject fear of Clark’s face in that moment was priceless. Gripping the steering wheel with stiff arms, cobalt eyes wide, mouth frozen, he blinked, and slowly reached over to turn down Britney’s voice before settling back into the seat and hitching his typical stoic, public mask on.

The men roared with amusement, and as the light turned green, Clark gave them the finger, before immediately shifting the knob back to full volume to drown out the sounds of Rhiannon practically hyperventilating with mirth.

Rhiannon could see his face now. Pink lips quivering and eyes watery, Clark beamed at her as she drew near.  _ Clark _ . Rhiannon remembered the first time she saw him cry. Maybe a week after they started dating, Rhiannon stirred when Clark cried out into the darkness.

“ _ No! Stop! Please! _ ” Voice urgent and frightened, Rhiannon flicked on the lamp to find Clark, eyes closed and thrashing against an invisible attacker.

“Clark.” Shaking his broad shoulders, Rhiannon dodged a groping hand. “ _ Clark! _ You’re having a nightmare!  _ Wake up! _ ”

Blue eyes snapping open, wet and crazed, Clark scuttled to the head of the bed, chest heaving and looking at her in alarm before his face crumpled. Turning away, Clark sat on the edge of the bed, body shaking and hand to his brow, fingers covering his mouth to muffle the sounds of his high pitched weeping.

Rhiannon scooted into him, rubbing her hand over his wide back in slow circles as he calmed. “I’m sorry…” Clark whispered, wiping his face and shaking his head. “I...this happens to me sometimes.” Swallowing hard, he shrugged. “Pretty unsexy, huh?”

Arms encasing him, Rhiannon pulled Clark’s head into her chest. “I don’t just want you because you’re sexy, Clark.” Kissing his forehead, Rhiannon felt a tear hit her breast. “I...I’m here for all of it. Even if it’s sad. Or scary…” Fingers trickling through his hair, Clark nestled in closer to the comforting warmth of her body. “I want all of you.” 

Folding into her, Clark’s powerful arms clung to Rhiannon as his tall frame wracked with sobs. Gently she rocked him back and forth until, eyes dry and nose sniffling, Clark was finally able to sleep again.

Reaching him, Rhiannon’s breath caught in her chest as she locked into his eyes, watery pools of deep blue adoration as Clark smiled.

As they began to say the words underneath the pleasantly warm California sunshine, Clark tried to take her in, tried to absorb the fact that this woman, his Rhiannon, was agreeing to spend the rest of her life with him. Eyes falling shut, rivulets of joy streamed down his cheeks, their partners mirrored on her precious face as they joined hands and lives.

The officiant turned to Rhiannon, and, lost in Clark’s gaze, it was a moment before she realized it was time to say her vows. “Oh. Right.” Passing her bouquet to her maid of honor, Rhiannon dipped into her cleavage to retrieve a small piece of paper, Clark smirking at the fact that even that minuscule gesture Rhiannon managed to make effortlessly sexy.

“Clark…” Pausing, Rhiannon peered up into his handsome face for a moment before examining her writing. “When we first met, I had no concept of the man you truly are. Like many, I thought, ‘He’s Clark Honus. Rockstar. Legend’.” Shaking her head, Rhiannon chuckled lightly. “But over time, you showed me your heart, Clark. At the beginning of our story, our introduction was...less than typical.” Rhiannon smiled. “You were a character, alright. Seeing you, traipsing around your mansion. Mysterious. Intriguing. Sexy.” Giving Clark a small wink, he grinned. “But it didn’t take long for you to become three-dimensional. And that’s when I discovered all the other chapters that comprise the man you truly are. Clark, you’re smart. Ruthless in business and able to discern the most advantageous angle in any scenario. You’re funny, spinning hilarious, engrossing tales of misdeeds and hijinks, always tossing in a silly face or entertaining voice. You’re sweet, cherishing me with patience and tenderness, endlessly thoughtful and caring. But most of all…” Folding the paper, Rhiannon met Clark’s eyes and squeezed his hands. “You’re Clark. My Clark. You love me better than I ever could’ve dreamed. And Clark…” Cheeks streaked, Rhiannon beamed. “Every day I wake up and I still think I’m dreaming. Because our story? This isn’t the conclusion. It’s never ending. An epic. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you filling the pages with love.”

Clark nodded, a gasping sob escaping his pink lips as he held Rhiannon’s fingers. When the officiant turned to him, Clark’s trembling hand reached into his jacket pocket. “Alright, so, um…” Swiping a hand over his face, Clark swallowed. “I’m not as good with the words like you are, babe, but…” Unfolding his paper, Clark bobbed his head. “Here goes. So…” Clark cleared his throat. “Rhiannon. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. But I suppose if I looked around, I could find any old beautiful girl. Rhi, you’re so much more than that.” Shaking his head, Clark continued. “Your beauty, your body, was just the first verse. Then I started to hear more. Your smile, the tempo that rises to greet me with every beat, keeping me solid, on track through each day. Your mind. A sharp, interesting melody that always challenges me and I catch myself whistling your tune wherever I go. And the way you care about me…” Voice shattered, droplets fell from Clark’s patrician nose onto the page, smearing his own writing, and he fought to continue with trembling hands. “It bridges the gaps in who I am. A lot of people see me as an important guy. But you’re the only one who…” Touching his lips, Clark closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling and hoping his throat would open enough to speak. “You’re the only one who makes me feel like I matter. Like I’m special. Before you, Rhi…” Allowing his arm to fall, Clark gazed at her with flowing oceanic eyes, face awash in euphoric anguish. “I was sitting alone in silence for a long time. Thank you for letting me hear the music again. I love you, Rhiannon.”

Certain her makeup was a wreck, it took all of Rhiannon’s restraint not to rush into Clark’s arms in that moment. And when finally they were pronounced man and wife, their mouths mashed together, salty lips linking between them as their mouths couldn’t decide between kissing and smiling.

Clark, Rhiannon, and the assembled guests made their way inside for the reception. Clark held Rhiannon’s hand under the head table, neither of them noticing what they were putting in their mouths as they ate, despite the hours spent deciding on a caterer, as they stayed locked into one another’s eyes.

When glasses clinked around the hall the first time, Clark almost forgot what the tradition meant and glanced around the room curiously. Dawning on him, he took Rhiannon’s face in both of his big hands, capturing her lips, not giving a shit if it was supposed to be a chaste, tasteful kiss as he passionately wound their tongues together and the room exploded into applause around them.

Rhiannon parted from Clark, face pink and heart pounding, wondering if he would ever fail to elicit that response inside of her. Peeking at him as he wrapped his wide mouth around a bite of steak and tossed her a wink, Rhiannon didn’t think so.

Cake wheeled out before them, Rhiannon beamed. Six layers, alternatingly decorated in either sheet music or printed text, with little figurines of Clark and herself on top, it was a confectionary masterpiece. But what made it special to Rhiannon was Clark’s insistence on the ingredients. 

When they went tasting, the baker set a number of choices before them and Clark looked down, frowning. “You got lemon here, or no?”

“Oh.” The baker stuck out his lower lip and furrowed his brow. “Yes, of course. But that’s just not a very popular flavor. Especially for weddings. So I didn’t think to bring it.”

Face almost stern, Clark tilted his head. “My girl likes lemon. Please do.”

The man scurried off and Rhiannon playfully smacked Clark’s firm chest with a chuckle. “Clark. We’re not getting a lemon cake. I’m basically the only one who’ll want to eat it if we do that.”

“And?” Clark shrugged. “You’re the bride, aren’t you?” Reaching up, he caressed her cheek. “You should have anything you want on your wedding day.”

“But we could just do vanilla. And I can get like a lemon cupcake or something, mayb—“

“No.” Shaking his head, Clark tucked her scarlet hair behind her ear. “If people don’t like it. Fuck ‘em.”

In the end they decided to do just one layer in lemon, but Clark assuring Rhiannon that she could give herself permission to ask for the things she wanted was invaluable.

His massive hand over her own, they cut a slice and the throng clapped. Each picking up a piece, Rhiannon spotted the mischievous smirk creeping over Clark’s face and knew it was coming. A wide palm smashed cake into her mouth, her nose, and she did her best to return the favor, laughing through frosting as she smeared dessert over Clark’s pink lips.

Parting to wash their faces, when Rhiannon came back and a few minutes passed without seeing Clark, she glanced around anxiously. 

“Alright, so…” Microphrone crackling behind her, Rhiannon whipped around to the small stage. Agreeing on both a band and a DJ so they could enjoy the best of both worlds, Clark stood with his bass slung about his vast shoulders, a couple of his musician buddies on the drums and one guitar behind him. 

“I’m a little rusty.” Smiling, Clark shrugged. “So I asked a couple of folks if they would help me out. Do something a little special for my lovely bride tonight. You guys wanna come on out now?”

Clark looked to the door through which he and Rhiannon emerged when they were announced to the reception, and Rhiannon’s hand went to her mouth in shock. Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham strolled out, waving jovially and joining Clark on stage as the hall roared. Lindsey picked up one of the guitars, and Clark glanced back to the group, nodding and muttering before he began tapping one large foot.

Launching into  _ Rhiannon,  _ she was crying before the first verse began. Seeing Stevie and Clark sing together, their gorgeous voices uniting, harmonizing, was otherworldly. 

After the last chorus, Clark unhitched his bass, setting it aside, and snapped up one of the microphones. Hopping off the stage, he walked to Rhiannon, climbing over the notes of her name and gathering her into his arms. They swayed together in the middle of the floor, Rhiannon weeping into the shoulder of his jacket as the song faded.

Clark returned the microphone, thanking Stevie and Lindsey, who of course were cajoled into performing a few more hits while Clark joined Rhiannon back at the table.

“Thank you, Clark.” Rhiannon embraced him, brushing a kiss to his sculpted jawline. “That was lovely. Amazing.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Kissing the top of her head, they sat and enjoyed the tunes for a while before Stevie and Lindsey politely made their exit, Clark thanking them again and introducing Rhiannon, who tried not to fan girl too exuberantly. 

The DJ revved up and it was time for one of the portions of the day Rhiannon anticipated the most: dancing. Clark said he couldn’t dance. Always complained he was uncoordinated and looked like a doofus. In Rhiannon’s estimation, this may have been the only instance of Clark straight up lying to her.

Clark could move. His tall, supple body rotating against her tantalizingly as they circled the floor, the glint in his cobalt eyes making her want to neglect their guests and go up to the suite immediately as his sizable hands followed her swiveling hips.

By the end of the night, Rhiannon’s ‘walking shoes’ were practically ‘limping shoes,’ but, irrepressibly happy, she didn’t care as their friends and family tossed glitter at them before Clark and Rhiannon left the hall hand in hand.

Brushing sparkles from his salt and pepper hair, Clark giggled as they entered the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor, thumb rubbing over Rhiannon’s fingers as they stared at one another and ascended.

Strolling peacefully down the hall, quiet, thoughtful, they arrived at the honeymoon suite and Clark reached into his pocket for the card key, swiping the sensor.

Rhiannon went for the knob, but Clark stilled her wrist. “Hang on, now.” Smiling, he scooped under Rhiannon’s legs, hoisting her aloft in his strong arms before angling her inside. 

The room was exquisite and gargantuan, bed strewn with rose petals and a bottle of (non-alcoholic) sparkling wine resting in a bucket of ice on the table.

Chuckling as Clark set her down with a grunt, Rhiannon patted his arm. “You’re going to regret that if your back hurts tomorrow.”

“Baby…” Hands at her waist, Clark smiled and made his dark eyebrows dance. “I plan on my back hurting tomorrow anyway.”

Rhiannon laughed, shaking her head. Clark touched his lips to hers gently, only for a second, before parting. Removing her veil, he walked to the chair and set it aside while Rhiannon stepped out of her heels. Coming around behind her, Clark began unbuttoning her gown. Patiently. Slowly. In no rush. Well aware he now had a lifetime to unravel the delights of Rhiannon’s body.

“I love you so much, Rhi.” Voice soft behind her, Clark came to the end of the buttons, lengthy fingers inching one lace sleeve aside to plant a kiss to her shoulder. “I…” Clark pulled her hair away, lowering the other sleeve, mouth brushing her skin. “I love everything you are.”

Rhiannon helped him remove the dress, wiggling until it pooled on the floor and Clark delicately lifted it, joining it to her veil, taking off his jacket before returning. For a moment he just stared at Rhiannon, standing before him in a white lace bra and panties with matching garter and thigh highs, her hair a river of auburn framing her stunning features as she breathed, angelic.

Nearing her, Clark dipped in to the crook of her neck, lips barely grazing her flesh as his hands came around to unhook the garter. “I love the way you smell…” Rhiannon threaded her fingers beneath his suspenders, slipping them from Clark’s impressive shoulders, blood whooshing in her ears as he tossed the garter to the floor.

“I love the way you taste…” Switching to her other side, Clark outlined her ear with his tongue as he unclasped her bra, massaging her breasts with an agile hand, Rhiannon loosening his silver tie and beginning to unbutton the black shirt as she kissed his neck.

“I love the way you sound…” Thumbs under the waistband of her panties, Clark crouched down to peel them away, and when he stood Rhiannon rid him of his shirt, fingers flowing through his dark chest hair as she remained in her thigh highs. Guiding her back on the bed, Clark shucked off his slacks and boxers before joining her.

His fingers began caressing Rhiannon’s skin with the utmost intention. “I love these arms, Rhi. These hands. The way you touch me. The way you hold me.”

As he kissed his way down to her wrist, Clark remembered a time a couple of months after they started dating when he came home from a meeting to find Rhiannon on the floor of his bedroom on her hands and knees, scrubbing the carpet viciously, lips pursed and brow furrowed.

“Rhi, what’re you doing?” Clark chuckled. “We have Martin for that now. You don’t have to clean here anymore.”

Craning her neck, Rhiannon raised an eyebrow. “You really want Martin cleaning  _ this _ stain?”

Clark bent down and immediately began laughing. “Oh. Right.” He forgot that he and Rhiannon ended up fucking on the floor the night before and, seeing the spot, it was apparent his cum dried in the carpet fibers. “Hang on.”

Disappearing to the bathroom, Clark returned with a washcloth and a bottle of peroxide. “This’ll do it.” Blotting first with the cold water, Clark then applied the peroxide, let it soak for a minute, and wiped it away, the white carpet immaculate as ever once he was done.

“Wow.” Rhiannon nodded appraisingly. “Huh. I didn’t know about that trick.”

Clark kissed her cheek, pinching her ass. “Not my first time, babydoll.” It was probably the only instance in their relationship where Clark would know how to clean something more effectively than she did, and the idea made him smirk.

Lowering himself, Clark’s lips glided down her thighs. “I love your legs. Always bringing you to me. Never away…”

Clark remembered how, for his birthday Rhiannon came downstairs in a robe. “Pull.” With a devilish smile she handed him the belt and Clark grinned as she stepped backward, unraveling to reveal sexy, intricate black lingerie. Going to the sound system, she put on an erotic song Clark never heard before and performed a strip tease for him that by the end, her shapely stems twirling and hips rotating, had him so incredibly hard that her commands of  _ ‘look, don’t touch’ _ made him endlessly fidgety.

Lowering himself on top of her, Clark’s cock notched between the wet lips of her pussy and he ground down, claiming Rhiannon’s lips and interlacing their tongues. “I love your mouth…” Clark whispered. “The way you kiss me. The things you say. How you tell me you love me.”

Clark remembered a party he and Rhiannon attended in the hills. It was a who’s who of the music industry, and though Clark found the functions tedious as a rule, the food was good at least, so he parked himself at the buffet table, tossing shrimp into his wide mouth and munching contentedly. It wasn’t until his third canapé that he realized he hadn’t seen Rhiannon for 20 minutes since she excused herself to the restroom and began searching.

Clark discovered Rhiannon, leaning against a wall and laughing, a man around her age Clark recognized from an up and coming boy band, painfully handsome, arm above her head and bending in close to her with an expression on his face Clark knew all too well.

“Hey.” Voice stern, Clark sidled up to them, blue eyes icy as he glanced from Rhiannon to the pretty boy.

“Oh hey,” Still chuckling about some anecdote of the other man’s Rhiannon pattted Clark’s chest. “You know my boyfriend, Clark. Clark, this is—“

“Come on.” Clark gently took her arm, gritting his teeth and jawline flashing. “‘Scuse us.”

Hand at her lower back, Clark quickly led Rhiannon outside. “Clark, what...we just got here…?” Looking back over her shoulder in confusion, Rhiannon almost had to jog to keep up with his long, angry strides.

Silent, Clark unlocked the Tesla, shoving the key in the ignition. Eyes straight ahead, his knuckles were white on the wheel as he demolished the sped limit. “What were you doing talking to that guy?”

“Oh Carey?” Rhiannon blinked. “I just met him. We were talking about—“

“I don’t like that, Rhi.” Clark barked, recklessly hanging a left turn. “I don’t want you flirting with other guys.”

“Clark, I wasn’t flirting, we were—“

“What you think I’m fuckin’ blind or something?” Voice dark, dangerous, Clark knew he was being an asshole, knew what he was doing wasn’t okay, but the thought of losing her, the thought of Rhiannon walking out of his lift to be with someone else, someone her own age, someone who actually deserved her, was making him irrational. “I saw you. I saw him. I know that look. I know what he wanted. He wanted you, Rhi. He was try to fu—“

“Clark, he’s  _ gay!” _ Rhiannon shouted, throwing up her hands. “We were talking about how hot you are, you goddamn idiot!”

Nearly hitting the car in front of him in his shock, Clark swallowed, shoulders dropping. “Oh.” Relaxing his hands on the wheel, Clark nodded. “I...I’m sorry, Rhi.” Shaking his head as traffic started to move, Clark sighed. “I just got jealous. And insecure. Stupid.”

“Yeah.” Crossing her arms, Rhiannon stared hard. “Really stupid. You know how much I love you, right? I would never, ever cheat on you, Clark. You don’t need to worry about me and other people. I hope you know you can trust me.” Rhiannon reached over to stroke his arm. “Clark, there will never be anyone else. I love you with my whole heart.”

Leaving her mouth, Clark planted one purposeful kiss to her forehead. “And I love your mind, Rhi. I love who you are. You’re so smart. And funny. And being around you…” Clark cupped her face, smiling. “You make every moment, even the shitty ones, a little better. I love you.”

Clark remembered a day when he came in from swimming. Drying off, he picked up a banana and discovered Rhiannon’s laptop sitting open on the kitchen table. Far off he heard the sounds of her showering, so he decided to take a peek. Rhiannon typically shared all of her stories with him anyway at some stage or another, so as Clark scanned the word document, he figured it wasn’t really an invasion of her privacy.

But as he read, a nagging guilt started to blossom in Clark’s stomach. It was a romance. Not Rhiannon’s typical fare. The sex scenes were hot and Clark’s cock throbbed beneath his linen shorts as he absorbed her tale. The story of a woman, Heather, who fell for an older, powerful lawyer, Silas. And as Clark continued to scroll he couldn’t help but notice several other parallels jumping from the page.

But it wasn’t until he got near the end that a certain passage made Clark’s heart hitch and his stomach warm.

_ Lying beside him in bed, Heather combed back Silas’ hair, graying at the temples in a way she found devastatingly sexy, but he was much too self-conscious about for his own good. The words bubbled up behind her teeth. Heather didn’t want to say them. Didn’t want to scare him away. Didn’t want to admit even to herself, particularly, the truth behind their meaning. But she couldn’t hold back.  _

_ “Silas...I’m in love with you…” _

At that point he and Rhiannon hadn’t said it to one another yet, and when Clark heard her coming down the stairs, he hastily flipped back to the top of the page, shifting into a different chair and hoping he didn’t look too guilty as she greeted him.

Luckily Rhiannon didn’t question why Clark was so turned on and pulled her into his lap, erect and hands hungry. At that point she probably expected him to be on her all the time, anyway. But as she rode him in the kitchen that morning, Clark stared into her ecstasy-laden face, and the urge to say it, to tell her that he loved her, too, that he had for a long time and was also tremendously scared, was overwhelming.

But he didn’t. Instead Clark held Rhiannon close, their bodies melding, and it wasn’t until a month or so later that he accidentally let the secrets of his heart slip.

Clark placed a hand between her thighs, circling Rhiannon’s clit, reveling in her slickness. “I love fucking you, Rhi.” With a rich sigh of contentment, Clark drew one finger over her directly and she let out a light moan. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.”

“Me neither.” Rhiannon smiled, carding her fingers through his silver-touched hair, her other arm snaking down to grasp his cock. “I love it. I love you, Clark.”

Grinning, Clark claimed her mouth, twiddling faster until Rhiannon rocked into his touch as she pumped him and he rolled into her tight fist.

Guiding her wrist away, Clark kissed down her body and, landing between her legs, dove forward with his sharp jaw. Clark’s mouth spoke a moaning gratitude for days past and promises of nights to come as he licked Rhiannon apart. Rotating into his chiseled features, Rhiannon arched her back, white nylon clad thighs fusing to his ears as Clark lapped voraciously.

“ _ Oh Clark! Yes! I love the way you go down on me...you’re so good...Fuck!” _ Rhiannon cried, massaging his scalp, the first wave of euphoria crashing over her rapidly and unexpected, leaving Rhiannon shaky and scrambling as Clark’s pink lips surrounded her clit and he began to suck.

Humping his eager face without shame, Rhiannon screamed until she was certain everyone in the hotel knew Clark’s name, dripping over his square chin and writhing helplessly.

“ _ Clark! Clark! Yes! Fuck! Don’t stop!” _ Orgasms rolled into one another indiscernibly like a snowball gathering mass and speed, and Rhiannon melted under Clark’s ministrations, nothing but a puddle of trembling limbs once he rose, wiping his face and brushing his lips to hers.

“Mmm…” Clark hummed in appreciation as his weight settled above her, cock purple with the strain. “My wife…”

Forcing a breath into her lungs, Rhiannon blinked her eyes open and caressed Clark’s crisp jaw. “My husband.”

Positioning his cock at her entrance, Clark tilted his head. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Rhiannon smiled. Clark sheathed himself inside, amazed at how every time Rhiannon’s body swallowed him, her wet clutch absorbed him so entirely Clark was able to lose himself. Lose the memories that saddened him, or filled him with a rage so blinding, so infuriating Clark thought he might spontaneously combust. Lose the parts of himself he despised. The arrogance many praised him for that simply made him sick. The plain ass stupidity that he hoped was getting at least slightly better as he got older. Inside Rhiannon, Clark lost the bad things, and found the good in himself, the good in her, and as a result of their time together, Clark almost believed there could be good in the world, too.

Clark’s cock working inside of her, he spun over Rhiannon’s clit with his thumb, tongues twirling as her hips rose to meet his. Rhiannon adored the way Clark made love to her. Like his body, somehow the perfect combination of strong and soft. 

Of course Clark could go hard, pounding Rhiannon into oblivion, practically fucking her in half and rattling noises out of her voluptuous frame that were frankly unholy. Thank goodness for his large property, because her screams would certainly result in several noise complaints if they shared walls.

But Clark could also handle her with a feather touch. Tender. Coaxing. Barely pulsing inside of Rhiannon, breath blowing over the embers of their passion until there was a gentle, crackling flame inside of her and she cinched around him, quivering and repeating his name as Clark cradled her in his comforting arms.

As she came now, frantically trying to keep her eyes open, to focus on Clark’s gaze, Rhiannon called out, and she knew there were no words, no sounds, no screams, nothing that could fully express how deeply she loved the man inside of her. 

Racing over her clit, Clark began hammering Rhiannon intensely, flower petals falling to the carpet around them as the mattress shook.

“ _ Clark! Yes! I love you! Fuck me! _ ” Nails grazing his back, Rhiannon drove herself onto his thick cock, shrieking and quaking.

“ _ Rhi! Yeah! Fuck! I love you! Rhi!” _ Forehead to hers, Clark grasped Rhiannon’s face, eyes clenched as he rapidly rammed into her and her limbs folded around him.

“ _ Clark! Fuck, Clark! I’m gonna cum!” _ Face scrunching and breathless, Rhiannon constricted around him as she convulsed.

“ _ Me too! Fuck! Rhi! Yes!”  _ Clark emitted whimpers that sounded closer to sobs as his actions grew hasty and erratic, hopelessly trying to kiss Rhiannon’s gaping mouth.

A twitching, jerking ball of ecstasy, Rhiannon and Clark collided with their desire, Rhiannon seizing against him as Clark filled her with warm cum, a high, melodic whine issuing from his lips as he rocked them back and forth.

Staying inside, Clark’s sweat dried and when he felt a chill, he reached down to pull the blanket around them before flipping onto his back and taking Rhiannon with him. Rhiannon started to withdraw, but Clark’s strong arm held around her waist.

“No…” He whispered, lips touching her chin. “Let me stay inside. Let’s stay together.”

“Okay.” Rhiannon smiled, keeping her legs spread over his hips and resting on top as Clark reached over to turn off the light.

Drawing invisible patterns in the small of her back, Clark’s breath blew a strand of her red hair aside with every exhale. Rhiannon kept meaning to tuck it behind her ear, but she was cozy against his warm little belly and built chest and didn’t want to move.

“So…” Clark spoke into the darkness, giving her a squeeze. “First time as man and wife.”

“Yeah.” Rhiannon tightened her arms around Clark’s broad frame. “First of many.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also take requests!


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